


Cerberus

by zeroambi



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: Original Trilogy
Genre: Flirting, Locker fic, M/M, Purgatory, fandom tropes, original trilogy, sexual innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13526007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeroambi/pseuds/zeroambi
Summary: After another crazy adventure Jack finds himself in the Locker once more. This time doesn't seem so bad though.





	Cerberus

**Author's Note:**

> Just you wait ten years and I manage to actually finish a fic. This totally ignores "On Stranger Tides" (except for some silly little thing) and "Dead Men Tell no Tales" (I haven't even seen that one). I had my own headcanon for the "Fountain of Youth" adventure, so don't get confused by vague hints about that. It's all mostly just an excuse to let our "boys" flirt and abuse any Sparrington fandom trope I could think of.

Jack digged his toes into the sand and took another sip from the rum bottle in his hand. Sitting back at the trunk of a palm tree watching the eerily empty looking sky, he shuddered to think of how much this place had messed with him the first time he found himself here. It didn't seem so bad this time. Rather uneventful, even relaxing and he could stay as long as he wanted.

“You can’t stay here, Sparrow,” a distinctive voice caught his ears.

 _Figures._ Jack sighed and stood up, marveling at how much disdain and indignation one could put into so few words.

“Admiral!” Jack greeted the other man overly enthusiastic. Norrington wasn’t wearing uniform like he had during the battle - standard Navy, thankfully, not that East Indian Company eyesore because there wasn’t enough port and opium in the world to make complementary colours a good idea - but now he was barefoot, just wearing breeches and a sash, his shirt opened up a few buttons. The man would look positively piratical if not for that ridiculous wig, that for some reason was still sitting atop his head. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Don’t give me that attitude, Sparrow ...”

“Captain! It’s _Captain_ Sparrow, goddamnit!” Jack insisted rather frustated.

“Captain of what?” Norrington asked, sounding impatient. Unfortunately like at their first meeting the man had a point. “The rum?” Jack offered weakly, waving his hands in the direction of the three bottles in the sand.

Norrington rolled his eyes. “What are you still doing here anyway? Surely Captain Turner…”

 _Oh, but the whelp did merit the captain title now?_ “Me? What about you? It’s been more than six years. Shouldn’t you have moved on to greener pastures by now, play the harpsichord in the great beyond. I mean, you’re dead mate, aren’t you?”

Norrington glared at him pressing his lips into a thin line. “At least I had the decency to stay that way.” he said while stepping closer. At Jack's lifted eyebrows the corners of Norrington’s mouth started to twitch. “In some kind of fashion,” he added.

“Didn’t look so lifeless in battle. Nice trick you did there with your _Dauntless,_ Commodo- I mean Admiral.“ Jack looked around the man and found as suspected the _Dauntless_ sitting on top of the waves just a bit off shore. “Good to have her back, isn’t it?" he asked.

“It is.” Norrington agreed. “And Commodore is fine, Sparrow. Not that it matters around these parts, but I took the liberty to give myself a demotion.”

Jack was about to say something nasty, because aye, that promotion and how he achieved it would still haunt the man, but then he suddenly felt generous. “Oh, good," he commented instead. "Commodore suits you better anyway. Admiral should be reserved for swanky, fat, old ponces. I’ll give you the swanky, but you’re neither fat nor old.” He put a finger to his lips as if having to think about something. “As for the ponce…”

“Mind your words, Sparrow.” Norrington warned but sounded more amused than angry.

“Guess not everyone can be as obvious as our dear old Cutler, eh?” Jack asked grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, I can think of at least one else that can.” Norrington replied with a candid look at Jack. “As to your former question. Captain Turner and I have come to an accord. The _Flying Dutchman_ is a formidable ship, but as this adventure showed, it can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Ey. Wasn’t my fault!” Jack held his hands up in defense.

“Of course, nothing is ever your fault, Sparrow.”

“It was the earthquake!” Jack insisted.

“And who was responsible for the earthquake?”

Jack didn't really have a retort for that.

"Anyway. The _Dauntless_ will be patrolling these waters, while the _Dutchman_ is otherwise occupied. A division of labour if you so will.”

“Ah. Keeping a lock on the Locker, so to speak.”

“So to speak.”

“You’ll make a fine Cerberus for sure, what with your scowl, and the dog hair, and all.”

“Horse hair. It’s horse hair, Sparrow.” Norrington shook his head in irritation.

“Whatever. Come on Commodore, drink with me! We’ve got to celebrate a victory.” Jack went back to his rum bottles and offered one to the other man.

“I could use a drink actually.” Norrington said to Jack's surprise and sat down besides him. "That’s astonishingly non-vile,” he said after taking a few gulps.

There was silence for a time before Jack broke it again. “Now come on, ask. I can tell you’re dying to, no pun intended,” he assured, shoving his ellbow playfully into Norrington's side. “I know you didn’t ask William, because you’re too thick-headed, I mean, too polite for that.”

Norrington's face showed quite some internal struggle until he finally managed to spit out the name. “Elizabeth. Is she …?”

"She's fine. A cat always falls on her feet." Jack said with a smile.

“There is a child?”

Jack made a disparaging hand movement “Poor boy. Terrifyingly pretty. She makes him sing pirate songs,” he said, trying to make the last part sound scandaliszing. Norrington had caught the actual slip though.

“Prettier than you, is he?” he asked slyly.

All right, the jealousy had obviously shone through, he would have to work on that, Jack thought. “Prettier than his father and mother combined.”

Norrington’s eyes went big. “Now that’s a terrifying notion indeed.”

“So she is happy then?” he enquired after a while.

“Happy enough." Jack shrugged. "Still missing her husband of course. But once they find a way to break the curse I'm sure they will live in eternal bliss for ever and ever ... or at least until one of them runs off with someone else."

Norrington gave him an odd look. “And there I thought you were a romantic, Sparrow.”

“Then you thought wrong,” Jack returned. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was rooting for you. Well, not when it came to the lass at least.”

“I think this is where we were both mistaken." Norrington mused. "It’s quite impressive what William has made of the _Dutchman._ As much as it pains me to say it, there is more to young Mr. Turner than what first meets the eye.”

“Well, what first meets the eye isn’t half bad either, aye?” Jack quipped and tried to stiffle his cackle at Norrington's incredulous look with a cough. “I mean, you’re right of course. When he challenged me in his masters forge that first time, I believed him an total imbecile too, but I didn’t know about his pirate blood then.”

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I can follow you anymore, Sparrow."

"I knew his father.” Jack explained.

"That would be in the biblical sense I presume ... no, don't answer that," Norrington added, when Jack opend his mouth to retort. "While I'm sure you can hardly wait to tell me all about your exciting adventures with the elder Mr. Turner, I’m actually curious about something else. There has been word that you found the Fountain of Youth?”

Jack let out a heavy sigh at that. Why if people were asking about his adventures did they always have to chose the really embarrassing ones. “Wasn't so much a fountain as a well. A wishing well if you so will.”

"A wishing well?"

“Aye. Pintel got his own ship. Ragetti got his eye back and Barbossa the ten years he has lost because of the curse.”

“I see. And what did the well grant you, _Captain Jack Sparrow?_ ” Norrington asked curiously. “Couldn’t have had much to do with youth in your case.”

“Eh?”

“You’re turning grey,” he remarked laconically.

“I’m not!” Jack protested as treacherous hands flew up to the grey streaks that had sneaked into the piece of art that was his hair. A Jamaican whore had sworn on blonde highlights to cover them up, but Jack had the suspicion that just made himself look a like a trollop. More than usual that is.

“Why immortality, of course,” he finally answers the question.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

 _So did I mate. So did I._ “Like you were set on dying ever since that day on the parapet, you mean?”

This made Norrington avert his eyes and grimace. “Touché.”

“She’s a fine fierce lass but not worth that, trust me mate," Jack tried to reason. "I know of what I speak."

"So I’ve heard." Norrington nodded and lifted his rum bottle up for a toast. “To immortality.”

“To death.” Jack made their bottles clink together and took another sip. “William gave you your sword back I see,” he remarked afterwards.

"Indeed. I'm thankful for that. It's a very fine sword and perfectly balanced," Norrington took the sword out of his sash and lifted it up for inspection.

“Mighty fine, yes,” Jack mumbled absent-mindly.

“The sword is up here, Sparrow.” 

Jack lifted his eyes up from where they were inspecting the good Commodore’s crotch area

Norrington smiled and put the sword back at his side. “Now why am I not surprised that you would not really be interested in a serious discussion of thrust weapons.”

Hell, that was an opening if Jack had ever heard one. “Depends on your definition of thrust weapon, really.”

“What’s the matter, Sparrow? No luck lately? Getting to old for your Tortuga whores?”

“Ha!” Jack bellowed indignantly. “Maybe they’re getting to old for me. Ever thought of that, Commodore?” Norrington just gave him a pitiful look in return.

“Scarlett ran off with a Spanish merchant last year." Jack told resigned. "Giselle has got her own bawdy house now reserved for a very exclusive clientele only.”

“Which means you’re out.” It's not a question.

“Which means I’m out.” Jack confirmed.

“There, there,” Norrington patted him consolingly on the shoulder, “I’m sure a pirate of your infamous reputation can find other company in Tortuga or elsewhere.”

“But I liked Scarlett and Giselle!” Jack whined, looking up at Norrington with a pout, who chuckled. “You know it's somewhat impressive how a man this close to fifty can give the perfect impression of a five year old.”

 _A five year old?_   He could give Norrington a five year old,  Jack thought. With a triumphant shout he snatched the wig from the other man’s head and ran.

“Dear Lord. What’s the matter with you and wigs?” Norrington got up smoothing his ruffled real hair back into shape. “Sparrow, give it back!“ he demanded.

“Come and get it.” Jack beckoned, waving the wig around with one hand, while drawing his sword with the other.

Norrington sighed and drew his own weapon again. “If you felt like fencing, all you had to do was ask,” he said and hurried after Jack.

“But where would be the fun in that?” Jack asked and he had much fun in making their bodies bump together in interesting places during their fight. Indeed, he hadn’t felt so alive since… _Since you drank from that well_.

“I have to say, I’m not quite seeing the point of this. We both know I’m better than you.” Norrington commented after Jack only barley parried another one of his blows.

“Do we?”

"“We sure do," he affirmed. "After all that’s why you talked me into fighting Turner instead the last time.”

Jack had to grin at the memory of that. “Worked like a charm too, didn’t it?”

“It did. While you might be a horrible pirate, I doubt anybody ever claimed that there was anything wrong with your tongue.”

“There are many interesting things I can do with my tongue, my dear Commodore,” Jack pointed out while ducking under Norrington's sword once more.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

And so they danced around each other, ugly wig long abandoned, until Norrington had Jack disarmed and backed against a palm trunk. “You’ve improved since we last crossed blades,” he admitted. “But there are still too many rather transparent moves.”

“Is that so?” Jack looked up at the other man innocently, while not so innocently shoving his hips against Norrington's own, drawing them closer together. “I surrender.” Jack held his hands up in defeat. “You can do with me as you wish, Commodore.”

“As I wish?”

“Aye.” Jack closed his eyes and leaned back on the tree waiting for a kiss that ... didn’t come. “Tease,” he finally grumbled under his breath opening his eyes again.

Norrington guffawed at that. “Unbelievable.” He put his sword away, pulled Jack away from the tree into his arms, and finally claimed his mouth, rough tongue seeking entrance.

Now that was more like it, thought Jack and gave back as good as he got, but it was over far to soon.

When Norrington let go of him and picked up Jack's sword from the sand, Jack watched him confused and rather dissapointed. The other man gave him an inviting look though, before turning towards the beach.

“Where are we going?” Jack asked his lips still tingling pleasantly.

“To my ship.” Norrington pointed towards the _Dauntless_ on the water. "Dead or not, I’m not one for silly romps in the sand.”

At the word 'romp' Jack’s spirits lifted again. _Thinking of spirits …_

“No-no-no-no! Wait! Not without me rum!” He exclaimed and ran back to the cherished bottles in the sand.

Norrington just shook his head. “Of course. The rum.“

***

“Port? Some fruit?” James offered him when they had finally reached his cabin.

Jack looked at him like he had just been presented with a glass full of dirt.

“You must excuse me, I’m not very versed in the courtship of another man,” James explained sheepishly.

“Well, then it’s a good thing that I’m not interested in any courtship whatsoever.” Jack took the peach out of James hand and put it back on its plate. "All I’m after is a long, rough, hard, buggering,” he drew James closer and into another kiss. “Think you can do that for me, Commodore?”

“I would think so.” James shoved him towards the bed.

Some times later Jack couldn't help but burst into peal of laughter. “Dear sea goddesses and ghost ships I needed that.”

“So it would seem,” said James, pulling Jack tightly to his chest.

***

 

 


End file.
